Sep 19 2007
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Time is a sort of river of passing events, and strong is its current; no sooner is a thing brought to sight than it is swept by and another takes its place, and this too will be swept away. Marcus Aurelius, Meditations. iv. 43 |
There are some things that will always be constant. Things infinite in the sense that it is beyond imagining a time ahead in which such things do not occur or exist. The tide is one of these things.
Sep 15 2007
There once was a girl who grew up in a really small town, really far away from much of anything. Of course, the word “girl” doesn’t define her, didn’t then, doesn’t now, but definitions in those days were unimaginative and lame, and besides, all she knew at the time was that she was a girl, much as that meant anything to her or to anyone and after all, it implied someone of a specific age or gender, doesn’t it, and even then, she had no idea there was anything at all beyond being a girl, unless that led always to being a woman, which is what she imagined her mother was.
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The girl’s imagination stretched just a bit oddly farther than other people’s imaginations, and their definitions, but alas, that would amble along later. |